


De-Aged Teenage Werewolves. Of Course.

by thilesluna



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Age Regression/De-Aging, M/M, baby wolves - Freeform, witches suck
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-28
Updated: 2013-01-28
Packaged: 2017-11-27 06:24:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 882
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/658906
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thilesluna/pseuds/thilesluna
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>If Stiles were to ever meet Dean Winchester, fictional or not, the first thing he’d say to him would be “You’re so fucking right about the witches, man!”</p>
            </blockquote>





	De-Aged Teenage Werewolves. Of Course.

**Author's Note:**

> Based off art by captaindick on Tumblr (http://captaindick.tumblr.com/post/32832432164/derek-when-the-hell-are-you-coming-back-they)

If Stiles were to ever meet Dean Winchester, fictional or not, the first thing he’d say to him would be “You’re so fucking right about the witches, man!”

(Okay it would be the second thing, because have you SEEN the guy who plays Dean? Dem bowlegs, right?)

The point is witches fucking suck and Stiles would like to attest to this fact with three key pieces of evidence, all of which are _de-aged_ teenagers. De-aged teenage _werewolves_ to be clear—and he thought they were bad as 16-year olds.

Well he was fucking wrong because Isaac is LITERALLY pulling Erica’s pigtails and Boyd has somehow managed to push a chair over to the counter and tip over a box of Lucky Charms and has proceeded to begin eating all of the marsh mellows. Stiles pinches the bridge of his nose, shakes his head once and then scoops them up, one by one. They’re all wearing over large t-shirts and Stiles struggles to keep everyone’s dignity intact, pulling at the hems and keeping them all covered. He sent Derek out to get clothes—or at the least underwear—after Erica had demanded a dress—“BUT NOT PINK” she’d yelled, which was adorable if not a little shrill. He figures they’re about four—Boyd might be five or at least close to it—and surprisingly easy to collect in his arms.

Until the claws come out—literally.

“Ow ow ow! No! Stop it, Erica—“ and he almost drops Isaac who promptly starts to cry. Stiles manages to get them all in the living room, Boyd giggling madly as he throws him gently down on the couch. He pries Erica’s claws from his arm and sits her next to the other Beta to pout and scoops Isaac into his arms more securely. He’s so small and he feels so fragile and Stiles can’t help but want to smother him in hugs. He feels like that when Isaac is normal actually.

He throws himself down onto the couch and has apparently forgotten the unwritten rule of four year olds to demand attention because the other two Betas are on him in a split second, Erica pushing Isaac as much as she can to get a seat on Stiles’ lap and Boyd bouncing lightly on the cushion and clinging to the teen’s shoulder with all his little, bitty werewolf strength—which fortunately is similar to that of a regular teenager but Stiles is gonna be bruised regardless.

Isaac is whimpering again from being pushed around by Erica so Stiles picks her up and sets her on the opposite side of Boyd so she can bounce around a little bit too, because what four year old doesn’t like jumping on the furniture. Isaac growls happily and settles himself back into Stiles’ lap.

“Hey, ‘Tiles?” he asks.

Wow, he’s freaking adorable. “Yeah?”

“When’s Derek comin’ back?”

“Yeah!” Erica yells. Directly into Stiles’ ear. “I wan’ my dress!”

“What’s wrong with Derek’s shirt?” The teen asks.

Boyd wrinkles his nose. “It smells like him. And you. Why does it smell like you?”

Stiles flushes at that because there are a lot of reasons Derek’s clothes smell like him and not a single one is appropriate for four year old ears. “Um, because we’re best friends.”

He feels something tugging on his shirt and he looks down at Isaac. “Best friends that kiss?”

Oh. God.

“Sometimes best friends do that, yeah. But not regular best friends. Special best friends,” he ventures.

Isaac seems to think about it for a second. “I wanna be special best friends with Scott.” He says finally.

“Ew!” Boyd squeals but he’s smiling so Isaac just pouts at him.

“STILES LET’S PLAY HOUSE!” Erica screams.

“No, nope, nuh-uh,” Stiles says artfully ignoring the tremble of her chin and the tears in her eyes. “Stow the crocodile tears, sweetheart. Not happening.” She folds her arms across her chest and glares at him.

“Do you think Scott would want to be my special best friend?” Isaac asks and no, Stiles will not have this conversation with a four year old about his best _teenage_ friend.

“If you don’t play house, I’m going to scream,” comes an ultimatum to his right and Stiles did not sign up for this. He slides Isaac off his lap just as the first scream starts to echo through the house and makes a break for the kitchen only to be tackled by three four-year-old werewolves.

He wrestles his phone from his pocket and manages to dial Derek’s number. “Derek, when the hell are you coming back? They wrestled me to the floor! Isaac won’t shut up about Scott, Boyd is licking everything and Erica demands we play house!” he shouts as soon as the phone picks up.

Derek just huffs from the other side of the phone and growls “Listen, do you know how hard it is to find a dress that isn’t pink? I’ll be back soon!” before hanging up.

Boyd is sitting on his chest now, blinking down at him and baring his little wolf teeth while Erica yells into his ear about playing house and Isaac surreptitiously steals his phone and figures out how to call Scott.

“’lo, Scott? Can we be special best friends?”

Stiles is never, ever having kids.


End file.
